100 One Shots
by TheLateNightWriter93
Summary: a collection of one shots, fluff, angst, funny. Bellarke.
1. Chapter 1

**100 One Shots #1**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 nor do I own anything on CW.**

 **A/N: I had this uploaded before but it wasn't beta'd, now I have an awesome beta and I give my thanks to her for editing this!**

 **Peaceful In The Rain**

Clarke sat under the thin, brightly colored fabric of the canopy they'd constructed from some of salvaged parachutes. It hovered over the opening of the drop ship, lending a cover from the elements, but also allowed them an unobstructed view of camp.

It was raining, not heavily, but enough that puddles were quickly forming. The steady drum of the small drops as they pelted the metal created a soft staccato that had to be the most relaxing thing Clarke had ever heard. That's why she was seated on the ramp while the rest of the kids had taken shelter in their tents or the interior of the drop ship.

A cold wind blew, whipping her blonde hair and tickling her cheeks. It seeped into her very bones, but didn't discourage her from remaining where she was and watching the gentle downpour.

This was one of her favorite things about earth, how the rain would fall and cleanse the land. It made her believe in second chances, in new beginnings. They needed those things, the 100 delinquents sent to the ground to save their people.

The smell alone makes her feel clean, even though not one drop has touched her skin. It's a mixture of damp bark and damp earth, and has her inhaling deeply. The trees sway softly with each gust of wind, their leaves rustling and their limbs waving. The rain's set in for the day, evident in the slow moving gray clouds above.

Clarke sighs, her breath coming out in a frozen puff. She feels at peace for the first time in days, like the reasons for her fear and worry are miles away- washed away by the cascading drops.

"Beautiful," a voice sounds behind her causing her to jump. She spins around, one hand covering her racing heart, to find Bellamy staring at her.

"You scared me," Clarke says in mild irritation, dropping her hand.

Bellamy smirked, his gaze moving from her to the rain and where it dripped steadily from the hand-made canopy. He likes to annoy her, but his reasons have changed over time. In the beginning he did it because he was afraid of his feelings for her, now it's just because he thinks she looks beautiful when she's angry.

Clarke watches him, taking in how his damp brown curls stick to his forehead and neck- his chocolate colored eyes studying the clouds. He was handsome, she'd have to admit, with his bronze skin and the liberal dusting of freckles sprinkled across his nose and cheeks.

He could be intimidating with those dark eyes, but she can see the softness behind them that he tries to hide. She's seen it from the beginning when he's with his sister, in the way he tried to save Charlotte, and recently when he looks at her.

"See something you like," Bellamy says smugly, pulling Clarke from her thoughts.

She turned away, trying to keep him from seeing the blush that was beginning to rise up her neck to stain her cheeks. He sat down beside her, and she could feel his gaze- soft as a gentle caress- on the side of her face.

"Now who's staring," Clarke says, turning to face him, brushing a few damp curls from his forehead, "You're going to catch a cold if you don't dry your hair."

Bellamy shivers involuntarily at her touch, closing his eyes. When they open again, they're darker than usual and Clarke can feel them burning into her own.

"I trust you to take care of me," he says huskily.

"I'd rather you stay healthy," she replies, garnering a soft laugh from the man beside her.

He turned back to watch the rain that's coming down more steadily now. They'd never appreciated rain on the Ark, hadn't even known what it felt like. He was fascinated with it now.

The way it darkened the bark of the trees, glistened on the thick, green moss, and filled the barrels they'd set out to catch the much needed moisture. Unlike the Ark, the earth replenished itself. Everything here was self-sufficient, from the tall pine trees to the animals that ghosted through the forest.

Clarke shivered beside him, rubbing her hands together trying to regain some warmth in her digits.

"Are you cold," Bellamy asked.

She nodded, watching as Bellamy quickly rose to retrieve one of the bright orange blankets. He wrapped it around them, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her closer.

Clarke sat stiff for a moment, trying to ignore the heat radiating from his side that slowly seeped into her body. She gave up moments later, succumbing to his warmth and melting into him with a sigh.

"Thank you," she whispered, snuggling further into his chest.

His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer as he rested his chin atop her head, "My pleasure, Princess."

Clarke didn't miss the gentle press of his lips to her forehead. She froze for half a second before looking up at him, a bright small blossoming on her face. Time seems to stop as he leaned down and his lips met hers.

She's slow to respond, but that doesn't seem to bother him. His touch is gentle, and soon she's kissing him back with equal fervor. He deepened the kiss, and for the first time since coming to the ground Clarke felt true happiness.

Suddenly she began to believe that everything was going to be ok. They were going to survive, save their people, and build a life here in this beautiful place. They were fine, better than fine.

Bellamy broke the kiss, and Clarke couldn't help but smile and snuggle against his chest. They watched the rain together, both with a renewed sense of hope and a belief that they could do this because they had each other, and together they could accomplish anything.

 **A/N: Thank you for reading, please go check out my newest story Kingdom of Shadows that I am co-writing with AvengerGirl17!**

 **-Lin**


	2. Chapter 2

**100 One Shots #2**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 nor do I own anything on CW**

 **A/N: thank you to my beta for editing these! Please go and check out my new story Kingdom of Shadows!**

 **Try Again**

Octavia was beginning to get frustrated. Trying to teach Bellamy how to speak Trigedasleng was proving more difficult that she'd originally anticipated. The words that sounded so eloquent coming from Lincoln's mouth as he taught her, sounded garbled and foreign as her brother stumbled over the strange vowels.

He'd never been good at learning new things, and she now had a new respect for her mother as she thought about what the poor woman must have gone through to teach a young Bellamy the things that he now excels at.

Octavia's thoughts were quieted as she listed to Bellamy once again try to pronounce a simple word. His nose scrunched adorably as his tongue struggled with the odd sound. It didn't sound quite right, so she asked him to try again.

This went on for several more tries until soon each new attempt was followed by a low curse. Octavia laughed, earning a stormy glare and a few choice words that she'd never repeat. She knew he didn't mean them, however it didn't stop her own temper from flaring.

"Stop whining," she hissed, "It's not that bad!"

"I do not, whine," Bellamy said with an indignant snort, "And yes, it is that bad!"

Octavia rolled her eyes, watching as he rose from the makeshift stool where he'd formerly been siting to sharpen his knife.

"I just can't get it," he said as he began to pace.

"You have to keep trying, Bell. You've only been at this for an hour. Cut yourself some slack," Octavia said, in what she hoped was an encouraging tone.

"I don't have time to sit here all day with you, O," Bellamy said with a frown, "I'm leader of this camp, and I have responsibilities."

Octavia stared at her brother, his stubbornness grating on her nerves. However, she also felt bad for him because he was right. Bellamy had been weighted down by responsibility his whole life. He'd never had the time, or the chance, to be just a regular kid.

She stood, moving to where he still paced, placing a gentle hand on his arm. His dark gaze met her own, and in that moment she saw his vulnerability. This wasn't just about learning a new language; her brother was just terrified of failure. Down here failure meant death, and she knew that had to be a heavy burden for he and Clarke to bear.

"Try again, Bell. I promise it will get easier," Octavia said softly, a smile curving her lips, "And if you insist on being difficult, I'll go get Clarke."

At the mention of his co-leader's name his eyes widened slightly, causing her smile to grow. Octavia could tell her brother cared about the pretty blonde, even if he wasn't quite ready to admit it yet.

"Fine," Bellamy said with a huff as he regained his seat, shoving his knife down in his boot and crossing his arms, "Tell it to me again."

"Ai laik Belomi kom Skaikru," Octavia repeated slowly, carefully enunciated each word.

She watched as Bellamy took a deep breath, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

"Ai laik Belomi kom Skaikru," he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Octavia couldn't help the laugh that erupted, the look on his face paired with the garbled sounds his mouth made was just too much. She held her stomach as she guffawed, tears coursing down her cheeks. Bellamy just sat there in stunned silence, waiting for her laughter to subside.

Finally Octavia quieted to a gasping giggle, and Bellamy rolled his eyes.

"I didn't get it, did I," he asked morosely.

Octavia shook her head, a new wave of laughter overtaking her.

"Shut up, O," Bellamy grumbled.

"I'm sorry," Octavia said, holding up her hands in surrender, "Try again, you're getting closer."

Bellamy stared at her intently, his lips forming a hard, narrow line. She could tell he was imploding, his dark eyes sparking angrily and his hands fisting at his sides. However, he did try again.

"Ai laik Belomi kom Skrishkru," he said through gritted teeth.

Octavia's eyes widened, and she had to fight to hold in her giggle as she sought to explain to her brother exactly what he'd just said.

"Bell," she began, "You just said 'I am Bellamy of the Crap People'!"

Bellamy stared at her, his first real smile of the day appearing soon after. He chuckled lightly, shaking his head at his own misstep.

"Maybe you should break it down for me," he said finally.

"Ok," Octavia replied, warming to the idea, "You're having the most trouble with skai, so let's start with that."

Bellamy gave a curt nod, his hands moving to his hips as a look of determination entered his brown eyes.

"Skai," Octavia said slowly.

"Skai," Bellamy repeated, his sister giving him a warm smile at his success.

"Good! See now you're getting it," Octavia said excitedly.

She carefully went through each word of the sentence, sounding it out for him before putting it all together.

"Now the whole thing," Octavia instructed, moving to sit on the stool Bellamy had once again abandoned.

"Ai laik Belomi kom Skaikru," Bellamy said, his words still slightly stilted.

"You're getting better," she praised with a smile.

However, Bellamy shoulder's were slumped in defeat and she could tell that old frustration from moments before was beginning to bubble to the surface.

"I can't do it," he said finally through clenched teeth, his eyes blazing.

He was losing patience with himself, and he was about ready to explode. Octavia tried to keep her own frustration at bay, placing her head in her hands as she tried to think of a way to help him.

When she could come up with nothing, she simply told him to try again.

"O," Bellamy sighed angrily, "This is stupid. Why can't they just speak English?"

Octavia rolled her eyes, preparing for an argument. She wasn't Clarke, so she wasn't going to enjoy this one bit.

"We're the intruders, Bell. Their customs and way of life need to be respected," she said trying to get her point across.

Bellamy growled, grabbing his knife from the scabbard in his boot and throwing it at the nearest wall. It bounced off the metal with a thwang, clattering uselessly to the floor. He walked over and retrieved it, turning the sharpened metal over in his hands as he walked back to where he was leaning against a workbench.

Octavia watched him, still wracking her brain for any possible way to help her brother. Finally a thought occurred to her, and she knew exactly what he needed to hear.

"Do you remember teaching me how to read," she asked, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"Yeah," Bellamy replied with a reluctant smirk, returning his knife to his boot.

"Remember how frustrated I got," Octavia said, watching as his lips curved in a genuine smile.

"You're not going to tell me that this is just like that are you," Bellamy asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Octavia rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with a smirk.

"Shut up, Bell," she said, her tone lacking any real bite, "I know you're not the most patient person…"

"I can be patient," Bellamy scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Octavia couldn't help the laugh that escaped, not missing her brother's glare, "Oh you can, can you? Well at least you're trying, and that's all that matters. Keep trying and you'll get it."

She got up from the stool, walking to where Bellamy stood still glaring. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, meeting his eyes with her own. "You've got this, big brother," she said softly.

Bellamy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to dispel what remained of his anger. He opened his eyes, staring down at the center of his world, and knew that he would try again.

"Ai laik Belomi kom Skaikru," he said slowly.

Octavia squealed, throwing her arms around his neck to hug him tightly.

"You did it," she said, "See, a little practice goes a long way."

She smiled up at him, pride swelling in her chest. Pride that he'd finally said something in Trigedasleng, but also pride that she'd been the one to teach him.

"Thanks, O," Bellamy said finally, "Now what's next?"

Octavia laughs at this, "You're hilarious Bellamy! There's not going to be any more lessons for a while."

"Come on, O! I can do it now," Bellamy said in a teasing tone.

"No, it took three hours for you to get just that one sentence," Octavia said with a shake of her head.

"Maybe the next line won't take as long," he said with a charming grin, the one that usually got him whatever he wanted.

However, Octavia was well versed in telling her brother no. "I'm not doing it Bellamy. Ask Lincoln," she said with a smirk.

The two men were still not on great terms. They were civil, but her brother still looked like he wanted to choke the life from the very large Grounder ever time he saw him.

"Ha-Ha, very funny," Bellamy said, his gaze following his sister as she walked from the drop ship.

"Love you," she shouted over her shoulder.

"Love you too," he called back.

Octavia shook her head, she needed a break after the three hours she'd just spent with her brother. Dealing with him was like dealing with a panther with a thorn in its paw, all growls and hisses. She wondered how Clarke managed it, but then again she kind of new.

She turned to watch as Clarke met Bellamy at the opening of the drop ship, his deep voice carrying as he showed the blonde what he'd learned. Clarke gave him an endearing smile, and then laughed in his face. However, instead of being angry, Bellamy laughed right along with her.

"Yep, they deserve each other," Octavia said with a shake of her head, unable to hide her devious little smirk.

 **-Lin**


	3. Chapter 3

**100 One Shots #3**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 nor do I own anything on CW.**

 **A/N: I send my thanks to my beta for editing this!**

 **With Snow, Comes Battle**

The wind howled, ripping through the trees as the delinquents rushed to dismantle as many tents as they could. Some carrying blankets and extra clothing, anything to help keep them warm. Bellamy directed everyone into the drop ship, telling them to find a place to sleep for the night.

The rain began to fall in icy sheets by the time everyone was inside and the door was closed. The metal pod wasn't exactly warm, but it was dry which was much better than spending the night in a flimsy tent. Here they were protected from the sleet and freezing wind.

As everyone settled for the night, Bellamy found Clarke where she lay all alone. He'd already checked on Octavia, finding her nestled safely in Lincoln's arms just yards away. He lay down beside her, their sides nearly touching.

Clarke had watched him make his way to her, but she'd been surprised when he'd lay down beside her and closed his eyes. She lay stiff and distant for a moment before she finally relaxed against him and curled into his warmth.

The next morning Bellamy sounded the wake up call, which really wasn't much of a call- more of a bellow. He pulled the lever that opened the drop-ship door, the ramp falling to unveil a winter wonderland.

It was snow, real snow, not just something read about on the Ark. White flurries continued to fall from the sky, kissing the earth and blending in with the two or three feet of bright, white crystals that blanketed the ground.

As Clarke looked out over the expanse of white, she couldn't help but think how beautiful it was. Nothing in the history books had prepared her for this sight, and looking around she could tell that the rest of the 100 were just as astonished.

She watched as kids began to make their way down the ram, moving slowly so as not to slip. When their feet touched the white fluff, it was like drop day all over again. Soon they were running and shouting with joy, falling into the snow with big smiles and bright eyes.

The doctor in Clarke knew that this beauty also held certain dangers, and they would soon begin to struggle. It would be difficult to find food, and frostbite would now be a new concern. Being confined in the drop-ship would also present a new worry. So many people confined to a small space would be a breading ground for bacteria, and disease would spread like wildfire. Many wouldn't survive, and the thought of more deaths settled like a rock at the pit of her stomach.

Then, suddenly, a ball of ice smacked into the side of her head. She wiped away the slick snow quickly, and looked for the culprit. It didn't take long to find him, standing there with a cocky smile and snowflakes caught in his dark curls.

"Listen up, Princess," Bellamy said, scooping up another handful of the white powder and rounding it in his bare hands, "Let's worry about everything later."

He let the snowball fly, and Clarke tried to dodge it but it hit her square in the chest. She gasped, staring at him for half a second before quickly bending to make a snowball of her own. The ice stung her bare fingers, and she looked up to find Bellamy readying yet another white ball.

She was quicker though. Letting hers fly with a carefree grin, delight coursing through her when it struck him on the cheek. The bewildered look on his face elicited a giggle that soon grew into a full belly laugh.

The others watched them curiously, and then began to make snowballs of their own to toss at each other. Soon everyone was running around, laughter and cries of surprise and joy echoing throughout camp.

Clarke found herself distracted from the inevitable worries that would come with their first winter, Bellamy chasing her with a handful of snow he intended to smear in her hair and down her back. He grabbed her hand and pulled, causing both of them to lose their balance.

Bellamy fell on his back, Clarke falling on top of him. They stared at each other for a moment, their gazes locked and their breathing labored.

"My bad," he said finally, a huge grin blossoming on his lips.

Clarke shook her head, gathering a handful of snow and smashing it against the side of his face.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to stifle a giggle, "Was that cold?"

Even though the question was aimed at Bellamy, Clarke couldn't help the shiver that raced down her spine. He shivered beneath her, but something in his eyes made her think that it was more than just the cold and snow.

Then the teasing glint was back in his dark brown orbs, "You're going to pay for that, Princess!"

Clarke squealed, pushing off of him and scrambling to her feet before she took off at a dead run. Bellamy's long legged strides allowed him to catch up relatively quickly, and soon he was only a length or so behind.

She spotted Octavia and Monroe hiding behind a large oak tree, the two girls using the wide trunk to shield them from the onslaught of snowballs coming from Jasper and Monty's small snowfort a few yards away. Clarke turned to look at Bellamy, ducking out of his reach and running to hide with the other two girls.

"Teams," Jasper yells, loudly enough for the whole camp to hear.

A cheer went up from the delinquents as the teens began to break up into small groups.

"We're so going to regret this later," Clarke muttered, blowing warm air into her cupped hands in an attempt to bring feeling back to her cold fingers. She pulled her jacket tighter, trying to block out the cold.

"Relax, Clarke," Octavia said with a grin, looking over her shoulder with a smirk, "You can take care of us tomorrow.

"Thanks, O," Clarke replied with a roll of her eyes, looking up just in time to see Monty preparing to through a snowball.

She nudged Monroe, the girl nodding to let her know that she understood.

"What's your plan," Monroe asked, quickly forming snowballs and stacking them into a neat pile.

"We attack," Octavia answered instead, grabbing a few snowballs with an evil grin.

Clarke shook her head, but couldn't contain the smile that curved her lips. Just then something flew between them, hitting the tree behind them. She looked around the tree at a smirking Bellamy, his face a mask of innocence as he shrugged.

The blonde took her chance, stepping around the tree and throwing the snowball as hard a she could, aiming for the overconfident baboon. However, she missed when he dodged the ball.

Clarke cursed sharply, but before she could throw another one Octavia was beside her throwing one of her own.

The two girls turned at the cry of surprise from Jasper, grinning when they heard Bellamy's low curse. They high-fived, then quickly ducked back behind the tree.

The three girls worked in tandem making snowballs and lobbing them at their opponents. They didn't hear the soft crunching footsteps behind them until it was too late and they were covered in soft white powder.

Clarke gave a squeal of surprise, turning to find Bellamy behind her. Suddenly his arms came around her waist, pulling her up. He was laughing as he grabbed handfuls of snow and dropped it down the back of her shirt.

"Bellamy," Clarke shouted, wiggling in an effort to rid her clothes of the freezing crystals. It proved to be pointless because her co-leader just kept shoveling snow down her shirt. "Stop," she said, pushing him away and trying to hide her smile behind a look of disapproval.

Bellamy, on the other hand, was smiling from ear to ear. She didn't think she'd ever seen him so carefree and relaxed before. His dark chocolate eyes shone with his laughter, his smile bright and beautiful. She decided then and there that this was her favorite Bellamy Blake.

"I'm sorry," he said with a smirk, "Was that cold?"

Each word dripped with sarcasm as he copied Clarke's early question. She giggled, bending her arms to dig the slushy snow out of her shirt and wipe it on his face.

"I don't know, is it," she asked with a grin as he shook his head wildly, wet snow falling from his face.

He looked down at her, happiness filling his features. Suddenly his mouth met hers, his lips moving against hers in a gentle caress. After a moment of surprise, Clarke responded, forgetting all of her worries and concentrating on the man at her fingertips.

"Gross," Monroe called out, followed by a dramatic gag from Octavia.

"No making out on the battlefield," O yelled.

Clarke pulled away from Bellamy with a giggle, the snow fight continuing. However this time she had a new teammate, and she knew for a fact that when they worked together there was no foe, real or no, that they couldn't vanquish.

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! Please go and check out my new co-written story Kingdom of Shadows!**

 **-Lin**


	4. Chapter 4

**100 One Shots #4**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 nor do I own anything on CW.**

 **A/N: I send my thanks to my beta for editing this!**

 **Sick Days**

Clarke lay wrapped in furs, her eyes shut tight against the reality she'd been trying to deny. She had all the symptoms of the virus that had ravaged camp for the past week: runny nose, sore throat, pounding headache, fatigue, and a weak stomach. She could no longer refute the truth… She was sick.

She wracked her brain, trying to come up with an explanation for how this could have happened. She was normally very careful, washing her hands after seeing each patient and never touching her face.

With no real medication Clarke knew she'd have to fight this with the natural remedies that Monty and Jasper cooked up. She sighed, knowing she'd have to make a list of the supplies she would need. They'd been depleted after the onslaught of sickness she'd been treating non-stop for the past week.

She coughed, the burning in her throat making her want to cry. She hated being sick, and was too stubborn to tell anyone because she didn't want to be a bother. She was the medic, she still had patients to attend to and this cold had just made things harder.

"I don't have time for this," Clarke croaked, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling of her tent.

She could already tell she was in for a long day as she pushed herself into a sitting position, groaning at the ache in her head. She sniffled, raising her arm to cough into the bend of her elbow. She tried to stagger to her feet, but only managed to fall back into her makeshift bed with a low curse.

Clarke gave up, deciding to try to get a little bit more sleep. She curled up beneath her stack of furs, sighing as she absorbed their warmth. She tried to get comfortable, but it seemed that no matter what position she found her body still felt as though the Ark had collapsed on top of her.

Before she could enter the blissful realm of sleep, her tent flap flew open and Bellamy stormed into her tent.

"Clarke, you should have been up two hours ago," he bellowed, "What are…."

Bellamy's words trailed off when he glanced down to find Clarke with her hands over her ears and a grimace marring her features. She grabbed a pillow, throwing it at him with a growl.

"Lower your voice, Bellamy," she said, her voice raspy and strained although it did nothing to hide the warning in her voice.

Clarke was thankful when he quieted. She propped herself up with one hand, rubbing her eyes tiredly with the other. She peeked up at him, his dark gaze searching her features intently as a look of confusion entered his eyes.

"You're sick," Bellamy stated finally, earning a dramatic eye roll from the blonde.

"Am I," she deadpanned with a sniffle, "I hadn't noticed."

Sarcasm dripped from her nasally voice, and she immediately regretted it when she looked up at him again. His dark brown eyes had narrowed, and his hands now rested firmly on his hips. She sighed, not in the mood for yet another famous argument with Bellamy Blake.

"Very funny, Princess," Bellamy said mockingly.

Clarke fell back onto her bed of furs with a sigh, "I do try."

She cleared her throat, trying to gain some semblance of her normal speaking voice back, but to no avail. Her throat was too scratchy and raw, making her cringe. Clarke really hated being sick.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick," Bellamy asked, coming to kneel beside his co-leader.

Clarke looked up at him, so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body and see the flecks of gold in his velvety brown eyes. She tried to put some distance between them, not wanting him to come down with what she now suffered with.

"Bell, you should leave," she said, ignoring the look of hurt that passed over his features, "I don't want you to get sick. One of us has to keep the kids from killing each other."

Clarke's attempt at a joke fell flat, her breathy laugh turning into a chest-rattling cough. She rolled onto her side, her lungs burning feeling as though they were about to be expelled from her body.

She suddenly felt a warm hand on her lower back, rubbing soothing circles until her coughing eased. She turned back over, refusing to look at Bellamy because she didn't want to see the look of pity she knew must be shining in his eyes. Instead she threw her arm over her eyes with a sigh.

Bellamy watched her, his gut clenching at the sight of her face so drawn and pale.

"Come here," he said, resting a hand on her arm.

Clarke shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, "No."

However that word held no meaning for Bellamy. She stiffened when she heard him rustling about, his jacket falling to the floor and his boots following soon after. Then he was crawling in beside her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his chest.

"Bellamy," Clarke bit out, weakly trying to wiggle out of his hold.

His arms tightened, and her head fell to his chest. Her struggling ceased when his heartbeat reached her ear, the steady thump relaxing like nothing she'd ever known. He smelled so good, like the forest after a warm rain.

"See there," Bellamy said, his tone amused, "You don't have to be so stubborn Princess."

Clarke held back a moan as his fingers carded through her hair, the action so comforting and so unlike Bellamy that she almost wondered if this was some kind of fever induced hallucination. She sighed into his t-shirt, nestling further against his chest.

"Get some rest, I'll be here when you wake up," Bellamy said, his voice rumbling softly as he kissed her forehead.

"I can't," Clarke said, her mind once again running through the list of things she had to do, "The others need my help. I've rested long enough."

She coughed again, her breath stolen, leaving her wheezing and sore.

"I don't think so," Bellamy said, his hand moving up and down her back in a soothing motion, "I'm not risking anyone getting sick. You need to stay in bed."

"You could get sick," Clarke retorted, her body once again assaulted by another wave of hacking coughs.

"I trust you to take care of me," he said smiling into her hair, "I'm going to get you some water first though."

"That's probably a good idea," Clarke said, closing her eyes and denying how much she missed his warmth when he was gone.

As soon as the tent flap closed, she knew that this was her chance. She rose on shaky legs, whimpering at the loss of warmth as she dressed as quickly as she could under the circumstances.

After she'd finished she took a deep breath and walked from her tent. She needed to keep busy today, she had no time to lie around no matter how heavenly that sounded.

Clarke didn't make it very far before she began to cough again, garnering odd looks from the campers she passed on her way to the drop-ship. She pushed past the parachute and looked around at the mess.

The floor was covered in dirt, and the cots were unmade. Supplies were haphazardly thrown here and there with no regard to order. She sighed as she began to slowly try to clean up their makeshift infirmary.

It only took Bellamy ten minutes to realize that Clarke was no longer in her tent. He went through camp shouting her name, kids scurrying out of his path. He was about to explode when he suddenly caught sight of the drop-ship.

Clarke heard his loud, angry footfalls before she even saw him. She was in no mood for this. He should have known that she wouldn't just stay put. She had things to do, and since when did she listen to him anyway.

Bellamy's lips formed a thin line as he glared at the few unfortunate souls who found themselves caught between he and Clarke. They quickly ducked their heads, leaving the drop-ship quickly.

"Really," he said, his jaw clenched and his hands once again moving to his slender hips.

Clarke gave him a look that clearly said 'buzz off' before slowly pushing herself off the floor where she'd been rearranging jars of herbs. She rose, turning her back to him as she began to make one of the empty cots.

"Clarke," Bellamy said, a clear warning in his tone.

She spun to face him, realizing too late that it was a terrible idea to move that quickly. The world around her began to spin, and she tripped over her own feet as the ground rose up to meet her.

Before Clarke could hit the floor, Bellamy's arm shot out and caught her, pulling her close against his chest. He gently lifted her chin, searching her eyes.

"I'm fine, Bellamy," Clarke said, her voice coming out weak and rough.

She cringed at the sound, trying to pull away. Bellamy's arms only tightened and she found herself unable to escape.

"No, you're not," he said with a frown, "You're so stubborn! If can't push yourself like this Clarke!"

Suddenly she found herself in Bellamy's arms as he carried her from the drop-ship.

"I take it you misplaced my water," Clarke said, smiling weakly as her head lolled onto his shoulder.

Bellamy didn't appreciate her joke, his grumbled response angry and a little harsh. She shook her head, not protesting as he carried her back to her tent, but not failing to mention that she'd told him she didn't want to be stuck in her tent all day long. He didn't answer, simply ducked to enter her tent, placing her gently on her bed.

"I'm going to get some water," Bellamy said, giving her a pointed look, "Stay."

Clarke watched as he left, then slowly removed her boots and jacket before crawling beneath her blankets. Bellamy returned shortly with the water, holding the cup to her lips as she drank greedily.

After she'd had her fill, he set the cup aside and crawled in beside her. He was warm as she snuggled against him, too tired to resist any longer.

"Sleep, Princess," Bellamy said softly, pressing a kiss to her golden hair.

Clarke couldn't help the smile that twitched on her lips at the feeling of hand that she'd just captured with her own, and the warmth that seeped into her body from his.

The next couple of days felt like years to Clarke. Bellamy demanded she stay in her tent to rest and relax. He screened all of her visitors, and the whole came was warned that she was not to be bothered with a problem or disturbed when she was resting. He'd even posted Miller outside her tent to insure that his orders were followed.

The blonde made it her mission to annoy Miller until Bellamy got back, and poor Miller looked forward to that moment every day. She would then smile innocently at her co-leader as his second ran for dear life.

He entered her tent, a crease between his brows and annoyance clear in his dark eyes.

"You must be feeling better."

Clarke might have laughed if not for the raspiness in his voice that he'd tried to hide. She frowned, moving to lay a cool hand upon his forehead.

"Now who's sick," she asked, "I told you that you shouldn't be around me, but nooo you just had to take care of me!"

Bellamy glared at the blonde as she pointed at the bed, "Now I get to take care of you," she said, her blue eyes softening.

He complied, settling beneath the furs as Clarke lay down beside him. He grunted, pulling her against him as his body relaxed.

"So far, so good," he said, burying his face in her hair with a contented sigh.

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! Please go and check out my new co-written story Kingdom of Shadows!**

 **-Lin**


	5. Chapter 5

**100 One Shots #5**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 nor do I own anything on CW.**

 **Loving Eyes**

They'd known the Grounders would come, but Clarke had never been prepared for what that moment would cost her. The warriors had descended on them in droves, more than she cared to stop and count. Their war cries were enough to send a shiver down her spine, but that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part came when her gaze found Bellamy's across the battlefield, and she knew there was no way that she would ever reach him in time. She struggled to convey the feelings she'd kept hidden for far too long, looking at him as though he were her last hope.

Bellamy could see the tears glistening on Clarke's cheeks; her blonde curls glowing in the waning sunlight. She looked beautiful even with her skin marred by blood, sweat, and tears. She would always be beautiful to him.

In that moment, with the sun sinking low in the sky and the sounds of battle all around, he knew that he loved Clarke Griffin with every fiber of his body and soul. He tried to commit this moment to memory, this moment when his whole world narrowed to one startling pair of sea blue eyes.

What caused his breath to catch was the answering love that shone only for him in the twin pools of cerulean sorrow. She loved him too. He knew that he didn't deserve her, but this made what he was about to do all the more important.

"Get in the drop ship now," Bellamy screamed.

He watched as Clarke shook her head, and began to try to make her way to where he was. She was willing to die by his side, but he couldn't allow that. She had to live- she had to live to fight another day even if he could not.

So Bellamy reluctantly shifted his gaze from Clarke to Miller, his dark eyes begging the other man to do what he could not- to save his Princess. Miller gave a nod, his arms wrapping around Clarke as he dragged her into the ship.

Her screams tore at Bellamy's heart, but as Miller shoved her behind him, he couldn't help the overwhelming relief that coursed through his body. The last thing he saw of the woman he loved was as the drop ship door closing, Anya leaping in before it closed for good.

As Clarke watched Bellamy disappear it felt as though her heart were being ripped in two. She knew that one of them had to stay with the 100, but more than anything she wished that she could save him.

Tears burned her eyes as she pulled the lever, closing the door. A blur descended into the ship, and for a moment she thought that maybe Bellamy had made it after all.

However when she turned, Clarke found Anya quickly overcome by the others. Anger burned in her blue eyes as she looked upon the woman who had probably just caused Bellamy's death, and she knew that for that the Grounder would pay.

"Tie her up," Clarke ordered, "Fire the rockets now!"

Jasper struggled with the switch, and then the ship quivered with the blast. Everyone was tossed about at the force of the explosion until it once again struck the earth, followed by an eerie silence.

Clarke waited for any sound that could indicate that there were still dangers waiting for them beyond the door. When nothing met her ears, she stood up and pulled down the lever.

What met her eyes when the door fell was utter devastation and carnage. Smoke rose up from the charred remains, ash floating softly on the breeze before drifting to the land on her clothes and in her hair.

Clarke looked around, her mind wandering to the identity of the unrecognizable bodies at her feet… No, she couldn't think about that now. She wouldn't think about that. For if she did, she knew that the pain would not be something she would come back from. She would sit and wallow in his death, always wondering if there was something she could have done to save him.

Suddenly screams and shouts filled the air along with a cloud of orange smoke.

"Mountain Men," Anya cried as everyone began falling to their knees coughing as they tried to expel the toxic fumes from their lungs.

Clarke fell right along with them, one hand covering her mouth and nose in an attempt to keep out the smoke. She looked up to see men in strange suits with breathing apparatuses over their faces walking slowly through the smoke, guns held tightly in their grip.

She felt her consciousness begin to slip as blackness crowded in, and she prayed that Bellamy had somehow survived because without him, she had no reason to live and no reason to fight. She welcomed oblivion, darkness being a far better companion to the overwhelming grief she felt at the loss of the man she loved.

 **-Lin**


	6. Chapter 6

**100 One Shots #6**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 nor do I own anything on CW.**

 **Wounded Animal**

Bellamy sat on a makeshift stool just outside his tent sharpening his knife. He mentally counted each scrape his knife made against the whetstone, the sound oddly comforting after so long on the ground.

This basic manual task calmed him, allowing his hands to keep busy while his mind wandered. It helped when he was feeling stressed about camp, or when Octavia was giving him one of her 'I need to be free' speeches. His worries would settle as his blade was honed to a razor sharpness, glinting dangerously in the bright sunlight.

1… 2… 3… 4… 5… Turn the blade, and repeat. This was simple- easy. This was something he could control, unlike the camp full of delinquents who counted on him for survival.

He couldn't say he disliked being a leader because he liked it very much. However, there were certain things about the job that he disliked. Like the constant complaints the teens brought to him at all hours of the day.

"There's a whole in my tent!"

"I can't start the fire!"

"Someone stole my jacket!"

They were never ending, and each more ludicrous than the last. It grated on his nerves, and he feared that one day he would snap and resort to violence. They were like sheep, needing to be told where to go, what to eat, and where to sleep.

Bellamy tried his best with the day-to-day running of the camp, the work details, guard roster, and hunting parties. Clarke had her hands full with the endless number of injuries the kids seemed to acquire, spending nearly all of her time in the self-declared infirmary in the drop ship.

He'd seen her many times with her brow creased in frustration as a stream of injured teenagers flowed into medical with burns, cuts, colds, and who knows what else. She barely had time to care for herself let alone help him with construction. Not that he needed help. He had Miller, Sterling, Finn, and Deek- they were good with camp work. He just liked having her there.

Although Finn was more focused on Clarke than the work that needed to be done, and Bellamy had caught him pestering the blonde as she worked alongside Octavia in the med-bay.

He'd go to check in on his sister, only to watch as Clarke tried, and failed, to hide a look of exasperation as she turned away from Finn and pretended to be searching for something, her lips forming a thin line and her eyes rolling in annoyance. He enjoyed those moments they made him laugh.

Bellamy looked up from sharpening his knife to see Clarke walk out of the drop ship. Her gaze swept over the camp, obviously looking for an escape. He knew that look, and knew what would follow.

So it was no surprise when Finn followed her, grabbing her arm, and pulling her to a stop. They began to talk, which quickly turned into a hushed argument. Bellamy could tell by the stiffness in Clarke's shoulders that she was angry, but Finn looked more pleading with a hint of frustration.

It wasn't until Finn leaned forward and kissed Clarke that Bellamy shot to his feet. In his haste his knife slipped, leaving a clean cut in his palm. Blood oozed from the wound, trickling off his fingers and dripping to the earth at his feet.

Bellamy growled, cursing his clumsiness, dropping his knife and the stone. He tried to wipe the blood away leaving a dark red streak on his pants leg. However, the flow wasn't slowing.

He finally looked up to find several people staring intently at him, Clarke being one of them. He could tell she'd seen the blood, and she was already moving in his direction- taking his hand in her own and turning it to better view the damage.

"Follow me," she said, leading him gently by his injured hand to the drop ship.

"Get back to work," Bellamy shouted to the onlookers, causing them to duck their heads and return to their chores.

Clarke led Bellamy to a table, "Sit," she said before turning to rummage through her menial medical supplies.

When she'd found the things she would need she turned back to him, taking his hand in her own once more. She tried to be professional, keeping her eyes from meeting his and showing him just how much he'd scared her when she'd seen the blood coating his skin.

The cut wasn't deep, but it was long, and she knew it had to hurt. She felt him shiver at her touch, so she tenderly brushed a thumb over his wrist. Then she made the mistake of allowing her eyes to float up, catching on his much darker ones.

Bellamy felt his breath hitch at the worry he saw in her eyes, worry for him. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to ease her fear, and see calm settle in the blue pools.

"It was an accident," he said, hoping to downplay the bloody gash.

"And here I thought you did this on purpose just so you could come and see me," Clarke said with a small smile as she began to clean the wound.

"I can see you anytime I want," Bellamy replied smirk.

This once again brought Clarke's gaze to his own, and this time he was pleased to see her eyes dancing with suppressed laughter.

"You need stitches," she said, breaking his trance, "This might sting."

Bellamy nodded, his male ego believing that he could handle anything she threw his way. He watched as she gently removed the cloth over the gash, fresh blood seeping from his torn and tattered skin.

Clarke gave him an apologetic look before pouring a small trickle of moonshine onto his palm, the liquid burning fiercely as it mingled with the blood on his hand.

"Might sting," Bellamy grumbled, "Princess that DID sting!"

"I gave you fair warning, Blake," Clarke said with a smile.

"Just stitch me up and be done with it," Bellamy said grumpily.

"Whatever you say, Boss," Clarke replied with a mock salute before telling him to hold a piece of cloth over his palm while she went for her suture kit.

"Are you going to tell me this MIGHT hurt," he asked when she returned.

"Oh hush, you're as bad as a wounded animal," Clarke said cutting him off, "Do you want me to take care of this or not?"

Bellamy nodded reluctantly; watching as she sterilized her hands with the moonshine, heated the needle, and threaded it quickly.

"This will probably hurt," Clarke smiled sweetly.

"You're going to be the death of me, Princess," Bellamy said unable to hide his smile.

He couldn't seem to look away as she began to pull the needle through his skin. It did in fact hurt, but a quick intake of breath is the only indication he gave that he felt anything.

Clarke could see right through his act, and she knew this was hurting. She steeled herself against this thought- the thought that she was causing him pain- and gave him a reassuring smile. After she'd finished she gently bandaged his hand, and looked up with a relieved smile.

"You're all done," she said, her questioning gaze fixing on his face, "How did this happen? You're never this careless."

"I got distracted," Bellamy admitted with a sigh, knowing exactly where this was going.

Clarke often distracted him. It was the way she stood out from the crowd with her golden curls and her eyes that seemed to change color with her mood. Her rough edges, and the softness of her touch as she cared for the younger ones. Her selflessness, and the frustration that plagued him when she refused to admit that she needed help.

He enjoyed being around her, even their arguments. Clarke Griffin had more passion in her little finger than most people could boast in body and soul. Maybe that's why his gaze followed her continuously, hers was the only fire that matched his own. He never feared that they would burn- together they only burned brighter.

"And what, pray tell, was so distracting," Clarke asked suddenly, pulling Bellamy from his thoughts.

She watched him as his dark eyes roved over her features, something shimmering in their depths that she couldn't quite define. They seemed to search her own as though she held the meaning of life.

"You," he admitted finally.

Clarke was shocked into silence for a moment, her mind refusing to form a coherent sentence and her mouth refusing to utter it. His hand was still held gently in her own, and where their skin touched it was warm- like holding her hand above a flickering flame.

"I got mad when Finn kissed you," Bellamy said softly, his dark gaze holding hers captive.

"I didn't know I was so interesting," Clarke said softly, "Finn was being Finn. Determined to get me back. I wish he would turn his attentions onto someone else."

Bellamy couldn't help but laugh at the blonde's indignant, unladylike snort. He didn't deny that he felt relief at her explanation, and he was thankful that he now didn't have to get rid of his competition.

After hearing his melodic laughter, Clarke had to admit that she enjoyed the sound. It was rare, and something she knew she wanted to hear again. She continued to stare at him as silence stretched between them, both sporting soft smiles.

Then Bellamy was leaning forward, his lips caressing her own in a sweet, tender kiss. Clarke was shocked at first, but it took only a second for her to respond. She wound her arms around his neck, as his bandaged hand cupped her face while his good hand gripped her waist and pulled her closer.

It was almost a full minute before they broke apart for air, both breathing heavily. Bellamy rested his forehead against hers, taking her in and reveling in what had just happened.

"If this is how you treat your patients I might injure myself more often," Bellamy said with a deep chuckle, earning him a light slap on the shoulder.

"As much fun as I've had caring for you," Clarke said, pulling away so she could look into his eyes, "Please don't do this again. I'll run out of medical supplies."

Bellamy absorbed her giggle, his lips closing over hers in another heated kiss.

"Whatever you say, Princess," he said as he pulled away, smiling down at the beautiful woman in his arms.

 **-Lin**


	7. Chapter 7

**100 One Shots #7**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 nor do I own anything on CW.**

 **A/N: Mondays...am I right guys? Man my allergies are acting up big time! Anyways i would like to give big thanks to my beta for taking time out her schedule to edit my one shots! Please guys tell me what you think by living a review because that would stellar and it keeps me going know you guys liked what i did! Also another thing, if you guys can, please go and check out my new co-written story Kingdom of Shadows!**

 **Maybe Next Time**

Clarke stepped out of the drop ship, the sun warm on her face. She sighed in relief as fresh air filled her lungs, the soothing sent of the forest around her replacing the sterile smell of the med-bay.

As construction on the wall was underway, that meant more work related injuries which had her busy in the infirmary all hours of the day. She removed splinters, applied salve to blistered hands, and bandaged the array of cuts that the kids seemed to get at every turn.

Clarke meandered through camp slowly, passing makeshift tents crudely constructed from sturdy branches and scraps of parachute. She continued on her way to the gate that was still in progress, watching as a few teens worked to make the opening wider.

In the distance she could hear axes as they hacked away at wood, shouts of "Be careful", and the familiar sound of trees smashing to the earth. She followed the commotion, passing Miller with a smile as he carried a heavy log back to camp on his broad shoulders.

Clarke found a few boys chopping at logs not far from the gate while Bellamy split smaller pieces into firewood a few paces away. She couldn't help but stare as the muscles rippled across his back with each swing, sweat mingling with the dirt on his skin and glistening in the bright sunlight. His dark brown curls were damp, sticking to his forehead and neck, pants hanging low on his hips.

Her mouth went dry as he swung again, the axe cutting through the wood making it look so easy. However the muscles at that bulged in his arms and chest bespoke of the difficulty of the task.

She licked her lips watching as Bellamy gathered the firewood in his arms and carried it to the growing pile next to where she stood. He looked up, noticing her for the first time with a smile. It transformed his whole face, softening the harsh lines and bringing a light to his dark eyes that made her heart flutter.

Clarke found herself returning his smile with a sheepish one of her own. She knew that he'd caught her staring, but for some reason she didn't care. If given the opportunity she would do it again so why apologize.

"Afternoon, Princess," Bellamy said, his voice husky and slightly breathless as he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, "What are you doing here?"

Clarke fought to remember what she'd come out here for, her mind still distracted by his nearness and those dark chocolate eyes.

"Taking a break," she replied finally, trying to regain her composure, "Your expansion is making my job a whole lot harder."

She tilted her head to look up at him, the sun glinting off his dark curls and bronze skin. She couldn't help but admit that Bellamy Blake was gorgeous, and that admission had her heart beating double time.

"Well, Princess, if you want a fancy new cabin then the expansion is necessary," Bellamy said with a chuckle, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

Clarke's eyes followed his movements with half lidded eyes, wanting so badly to see if his hair was as soft as it looked. She felt a blush rising up her neck, and she tore her gaze away to stare intently at the wall in hopes of hiding the redness staining her cheeks.

"Well tell them to make my job just a little bit easier by trying to be more careful," she said glancing back at him.

When her eyes found his, he was staring right at her- his dark eyes roaming over her features until they came to rest on her eyes. She felt her breathing quicken, biting her lip in uncertainty.

"Don't do that," Bellamy said, his fingers gripping her chin as his thumb gently ran over her lip- freeing it from her teeth.

Clarke looked up at him, his eyes darkening if that was even possible. His fingers trailed slowly down her cheek, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. At his gentle touch a sigh escaped her lips and her eyes fell closed.

Each small touch was torture, his hand cupping her face as she once again opened her eyes to look up at him. His forehead descended to rest against hers, their breath mingling, sending a shiver down her spine.

"We have an audience, Bell," Clarke whispered with a soft, breathy laugh.

Bellamy looked up then, turning to the others with a dark scowl. It wasn't their fault, their leaders engaging in public displays of affection was very rare- pretty much nonexistent.

On her part, she justified this with the thought that she rarely saw her co-leader since he'd begun the expansion on the wall. The only time she got to spend time with him was when they went over more plans for the camp construction projects and at night before they fell asleep in the tent they shared.

"Get back to work," Bellamy barked, turning back to her- his features immediately softening.

Clarke placed a hand on his chest, his heart beating against her palm beneath the layers of hard muscle. She could smell the sweat mingled with the fresh scent of the forest, the two mixing to form a fragrance that was all Bellamy which was a bit intoxicating.

She allowed her hand to travel up and around his neck, her fingers twining in the soft curls at his nape.

"Princess, you keep that up and you and I are gonna have to have a talk," Bellamy said with a smirk that clearly said there would be very little talking involved.

His grip on her waist tightened as he pulled her closer, and Clarke simply shrugged innocently. One of his hands traced up her spine, tangling in her golden curls.

"I could say the same to you," she said on a shuddering sigh, bringing his face level with her own.

Their lips met softly at first, and then the kiss became a bit more insistent. His tongue brushed the seam of her lips, and she opened her mouth. As the kiss began to slow she lightly bit his lip, eliciting a growl that rumbled deep in his chest.

Clarke couldn't help her smile, pulling away to rest her forehead against his as she stared into his dark eyes- pupils blown wide.

"You're going to be the death of me, Clarke," Bellamy said with a shake of his head, giving her one more quick kiss before straightening and once again taking up his axe.

She bit her lip, watching as he reached for another log. He raised the axe, muscles flexing as he brought it back down with more force than was necessary. That was probably her fault she teased him too much.

"Clarke," she heard her name ring out behind her.

Clarke frowned, knowing that she had to get back to work herself. She took on last longing look at Bellamy, saving the image with a sigh before heading back to camp.

As she neared the drop ship she found Octavia leaning in the entrance, that famous Blake smirk curving her lips.

"You went to see my brother, didn't you," the younger girl said with a laugh, a teasing glint sparking in her eyes as Clarke's face grew red.

Octavia simply shook her head at the blonde's glare, motioning Clarke to follow her back inside. Clarke complied with a sigh, turning to glance one more time at the entrance of camp before disappearing into the cold interior of the drop ship.

 **-Lin**


	8. Chapter 8

**100 One Shots #8**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 nor do I own anything on CW.**

 **A/N: Thank you to my beta for editing this! Thank you to everyone who followed, favorite and reviewed, you guys are awesome! Also if you guys can, please go read my co-written story Kingdom of Shadows, chapter 4 will be uploaded on Saturday! Now please enjoy this update, I hope you guys like it, and if so please review and let me know! I would like to hear some suggestions from you guys as well, what kind of one shot would you guys like me to write?**

 **When They Attack**

Clarke stood in murky darkness surrounded by bare trees that reached for the waning moon above. She wrapped her arms around herself knowing she needed to find shelter or else she'd freeze to death.

She began to walk again, leaves crunching beneath her booted feet as she made her way through the forest. A noise off in the distance caused her to halt her progress, straining to hear what sounded like a high-pitched scream.

She squinted her eyes, trying to see better in the darkness. She should have stopped and found shelter while the sun was still up, but she'd felt the need to keep going and now she might not even live to regret her decision.

Clarke pulled out her pistol from the waistband of her pants, pointing it down as she continued her search. They had to be out here too, she could feel it. She stopped again, huddling behind a tree as she listens.

Then she hears it, the hollow moaning that never failed to send a shiver of fear down her spine. They were definitely out there, and in the dark she would never be able to see how many.

Clarke cursed silently under her breath, looking frantically for a tree that would hold her weight. She could hear the groaning become louder, and she knew that she was running out of time.

She curses her own stupidity yet again as rough bark digs into her palms as she began to climb the only suitable tree she'd found. The low hanging branch made it easier for her to get a handhold and then move steadily up the large sycamore until she was perched high enough that she felt safe.

Clarke could hear their shuffled footsteps and their constant moaning. They were closer than she'd thought. She quickly adjusted her position, and once again took out her gun. She grew more anxious with every slow footstep and every agonizing moan.

She didn't want to fire her weapon unless it was absolutely necessary. There was no sense in drawing attention to her hiding place, so she sat as still as possible- waiting.

Suddenly she sees them, white chalky skin that wreaks of rot as it peels and cracks, brittle hair coming out in large tufts, clothes tattered and bloodied, the stench of decaying flesh filling the air.

Clarke began to count: one, two, three, four, five… five wasn't so bad, she'd fought more. She still couldn't take this lightly. She'd screwed up by not following the basic rules of survival. She could've been eaten long ago if not for those very same rules, so why did she choose to break them tonight?

She looked down, watching as they passed right under her- creeping slowly along, moaning and shuffling. It saddened her how the world was now, nothing but a rock full of zombies searching trying to sate their undying hunger.

There were things Clarke didn't miss and things she did, like electricity, running water, food that didn't always come out of a can, the internet, and actually getting to talk to people. That last one was unexpected, but she supposed after all this time on her own her views may have shifted a bit.

She continued to watch until she could no longer see them, but their never-ending torment still reached her ears. She didn't want to climb down for fear that she'd missed something, so she decided to stay up in her tree for the night.

Clarke settled in, knowing that sleep wasn't going to come. She leaned back against the tree, looking up through the bare branches at the unobstructed view of the stars. The only thing of beauty left for her.

The night moved on without incident, and soon the sun was bathing the earth in its light. Clarke made sure of her surroundings before descending back to the ground. In no time she was walking again, feeling much better now that she could see the barren landscape around her.

She soon stumbled upon a rundown shack, giving it a thorough once over because she wasn't willing to take any chances. She found nothing, no groaning decaying creatures, no other humans- just an empty cabin.

Clarke breathed a sigh of relief. She could have died last night; she could die any night really. She pushed open the door, its paint peeling and the hinges giving a squeal of protest.

The inside was filthy, layered in dirt and caked with leaves. There was only one bedroom, the door closed. She opened it just a crack, peeking inside to find it empty before stepping inside. She checked the small closet to find nothing yet again before exiting the room.

Clarke's nerves were shot, her hands trembling and her breathing ragged as she moved on to what she thought to be a small bathroom. She pressed her ear against the door, and when she heard nothing she opened it.

She quickly threw her hand over her mouth and nose at the noxious odor that resembled a mix of vomit and decaying flesh baked by the sun in the middle of August.

She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat at the sight of the rotting creature that stood with its eyes closed, its breath coming as more of a wheeze. These creatures would sometimes rest during the day, so many times the daylight offered relief from the onslaught the night before.

Clarke stared at the man before her. He was short and stocky, his graying hair falling out in patches, his clothes torn and bloodied. If there was one, she knew there could be more near by so she didn't want to risk using her gun.

Instead she pulled the small cross bow from her backpack, loaded it, and shot the creature right through the eye- watching as it slumped to the ground. She quickly closed the small door, using a fat marker to draw a red X on the door.

After checking the cabin over one more time, Clarke pulled a chair to the small rickety porch and sank down into it. The sun felt good on her skin, banishing the cold she'd felt as she huddled in that tree the night before.

Her eyes were getting heavy, so she decided to set the timer from her pack for thirty minutes and take a short nap. It wasn't much, but maybe it would help her to remain alert through the rest of her day.

As she settled in to sleep, Clarke thought about the safe place she wanted to find. A place that was warm and safe where she could actually sleep at night instead of catching a power nap whenever she could go no further.

Thirty minutes later the beeping started, and she opened her eyes with a groan. It felt as though she'd just drifted off, but it would have to be enough. She stuffed the timer back in her bag, strapping it on her shoulders as she fantasized about a hot shower, black coffee, and a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs.

Her fantasy was cut short when Clarke caught movement out of the corner of her eye. It wasn't even mid-day yet, it was too early for the creatures to begin their search for food.

She grabbed her gun, and stepped off the porch as a man stepped from the shade of the forest. He looked to be about her age, messy dark brown curls, the shadow of a beard on his face, soulful brown eyes, muscular build, and pointing a gun right at her.

Clarke narrowed her eyes, and kept her gun trained on the man. This was the first human she'd seen in over three months and they were pointing guns at each other- waiting for the other to lower their weapon first. Not me, she thought with a lift of her chin.

The man before her was handsome, yes, but that didn't mean she trusted him. She had to be careful on her own because there were people who would steal everything she had, and then leave her defenseless against to die.

"Put your gun down," he demanded.

"You first," Clarke said with a tilt of her head, a smirk curving her lips as she continued to hold her weapon at the ready.

They stared at one another for several long moments, and then he dropped his hand and placed the gun in the holster at this waist. Clarke slowly copied his movements, never taking her eyes off of the stranger.

"Are you with anyone," he asked, taking a step forward as she took a step back, "I'm not going to hurt you."

"What does it look like," Clarke asked, watching as he held his hands up in a show of surrender, "You're not going to try to rob me, are you? The last guy who tried it didn't live very long."

That last part was a lie, but the way she figured it was more of a bluff. She'd never been robbed, but it had been another worry to add to her list after she stumbled upon the body of someone who had.

"I'm not going to rob you," he assured her.

"Are you sure," Clarke narrowed her eyes, studying him for a moment.

"I'm sure," the stranger said taking another step forward which prompted her to step back again, "You haven't been around people in a long time, have you?"

Clarke didn't answer; she simply raised a blonde brow in annoyance. She took a chance and turned away from him, listening just in case he moved for his gun so she could draw hers first.

"There's a river about a half mile from here," he said moving to follow her up onto the porch.

"So," Clarke said as she sat back down in the rickety rocker.

"I thought you should know," he replied, leaning against the porch railing, "It's fresh water."

"Yeah, and your point is…?"

The stranger looked down at her half empty water bottle, "You should get that refilled," he said with mild concern.

"So I should just trek down to that river on good faith that you're telling the truth," Clarke asked with thinly veiled irritation.

She watched as his brown eyes darkened, his hands fisting at his sides.

"I'm a lot of things, Princess, but a liar isn't one of them," he said through gritted teeth.

"I take it you haven't been around people in a while either," she asked with a tilt of her head.

"It's been a month, but that doesn't change the fact that you need more water," he said again.

"Are you trying to get me to leave," Clarke asked, "So what, you can have this little scrap heap all to yourself?"

She turned to gaze out at the forest, knowing that she was being difficult. Something about him was begging her to trust him, and she wanted to so badly. It'd been so long since she'd had someone to talk to and share the burden with.

"Look," he said finally, "I just think we could help each other. Take turns sleeping and watch each other's backs."

Clarke thought about this for a moment, her hesitation winning out, "I sleep first, you steal my stuff and run away. By the time I wake up it's dark, I'm weaponless, and about to be eaten by a zombie."

"I'll sleep first," the stranger concedes, "Just as long as you don't steal my stuff."

Clarke nods and he disappears into the house. She's startled slightly when his deep voice floats back to her.

"It's been a long time since I've taken a decent nap," he shouts from inside the shack.

She simply shakes her head, folding her arms over her chest and fights to stay awake. A few hours later he emerges again running a hand through his tousled curls. The sun was about an hour from setting, which meant they'd have to retreat inside and barricade the doors.

"We should get inside," Clarke said as she stood and gathered her things.

She pushed passed him, trying to ignore his self assured smirk, making her way into the living area and dropped her things in one of the vacant, dusty chairs. The couch still bore the dent from his body, and she envied him for sleeping at all. Truth be told, she would probably be in a much better mood after she got some sleep.

Clarke watched as the dark stranger closed and locked the door, the sun glinting on his dark curls as he moved to each window and closed the shutters. Then he took one of the chairs, leaning back and crossing his feet at the ankles.

The waiting was the worst part for her. She hated waiting for the creatures to come, the actual fighting was preferable because at least then she was doing something. She couldn't sit still for long, and soon she was moving to stare out on of the gaping holes in the rickety shutters.

Clarke froze when she noticed two figures standing side by side, just staring at the house. It was too dark to see their faces; too dark to know whether they'd been infected.

"Hey whatever your name is," she said, waving the man over.

"Bellamy, what is it," he replied coming to stand beside her.

Clarke pointed at the two figures, only to watch as four more dark shadows materialize. A low curse passes her lips- why were there so many? She felt a tight grip on her arm as Bellamy pulled her away from the window.

She gave him a disgruntled look, yanking her arm back before grabbing her crossbow and reloading it. She did the same to her pistol, checking her clip and insuring that the barrel was free of obstruction. She watched as Bellamy did the same, looking over a scarred handgun before pulling out a weighty axe.

"What's your name," Bellamy asked, looking up from testing the sharpness of his axe before securing it to his belt.

"Clarke," she replied, standing and moving back to the window.

There were over a dozen standing before the cabin now, and she couldn't help the fear that roiled in her chest. The stench from the creature she'd done away with earlier made her want to retch, the closeness after shutting the windows and doors making the smell ten times worse.

"Well, Clarke, it was nice to meet you," Bellamy said with a smile, and she couldn't help but wonder if the man didn't feel fear.

"Nice to meet you too," she reciprocated, knowing that neither one of them were going to make it out of this little shack.

Clarke knew their odds-even with the extra ammo and Bellamy- they weren't good. If any more showed up they would be dead well before the sun rose, or worse infected with the insatiable hunger as their flesh rotted from their bones.

As she watched the dark figures, she noticed that they didn't advance. It was almost as though they were waiting for something. Something wasn't right. There were too many, and they weren't behaving as she was accustomed.

Clarke raised her crossbow, aiming it at one of the shadowy outlines through a large gap in the shutter. She took a breath, letting it out slowly before letting the arrow fly and watching as it embed in one of the zombie's eye sockets.

She reloaded, looking up to find that the fallen creature was slowly coming to its feet. This time Bellamy took a shot, the report ringing loud in the still night air. The others watched with rapt attention as the zombie fell before beginning to advance on the house.

They came quickly, Bellamy taking as many headshots as he could and then Clarke's arrows would follow. When she ran out of arrows, she dropped the crossbow and grabbed for her gun. Together they picked off one and then another.

Clarke covered Bellamy as he reloaded his gun, and then both of their heads shot up at the loud bang that echoed in the distance. Their eyes widened as they watched a group of uninfected people filter from the trees, their shots sure as they took down zombies right and left.

Then a thud sounded in the bathroom causing both of them to jump.

"I thought you checked the house," Bellamy said as he took out another creature.

"You just focus on the ones outside, I can handle this one. I did check the house, but I thought I killed it," Clarke grumbled as she made her way to the bathroom.

She kicked down the door, shooting the zombie as soon as she had a clear shot. It didn't faze it as it began to come closer before she kicked it in the gut and sent it flying backwards.

Clarke took that split second to shoot it in the head twice, breathing a sigh of relief when it finally went down. She shot it twice more in the same place just to be sure before making her move back to stand beside Bellamy.

She reloaded her gun then began to pick off the zombies one by one as their new allies continued to fire from the trees. The creatures' numbers were dwindling, and Clarke had no clue who these humans were but she was glad they were there.

Suddenly the door splintered and a zombie fell forward, clawing its way toward Clarke as another came in after it. She knew she was running out of bullets, and Bellamy had to be facing the same dilemma. This was bad, very bad.

She quickly took aim, shooting the zombie closest to her before turning to the one behind it. She'd only gotten one bullet into the second creature before her gun gave a sickening click, and a string of curses fell from her lips.

Bellamy came to her aid, finishing what she'd started before she told him to go back to the window as she reloaded her gun as fast as she could. She fired again and again as the creatures seemed to get closer and closer, and she tried desperately to kick them away.

Her luck ran out when one of them got too close and knocked the gun from her hand. She tried to fight back, using anything within reach to try and keep the zombie from getting any closer. She began to flag, her movements becoming slower and slower, and just when the zombie was about to bite down its head was blown off by a shotgun blast.

Clarke looked up with wide eyes to find an old man standing with a smoking double barrel shotgun slung over one arm, his hand outstretched to help her from the floor. She took it, coming to her feet and then dusting the dirt from her clothing.

"Were you bitten," he asked.

Clarke did a quick inspection of her limbs, shaking her head when she found nothing. The man and Bellamy both gave a sigh of relief, the tension slowly ebbing from their bodies.

"It's clear for now," the man said as the rest of his group huddled at the entrance of the shack, all eyes trained on Clarke.

"I'm not bitten," she reassured everyone. They still seemed a bit wary, but they nodded in understanding.

She gave them a small smile, picking up her gun and shoving it in the holster.

"Thank you for your help," she said to the group of well armed individuals who'd just saved her and her new handsome acquaintance.

"You should both come with us. We spotted more in the woods on our way here, and this cabin will be overrun in no time," the man said.

Clarke looked at him, but then her gaze turned to Bellamy. She didn't know him well, but already she trusted him. Fate had thrown them together, but now he was her unofficial partner, and she was too tired to make this decision on her own.

She could tell that her partner was in the same boat she was, in terrible need of a shower, practically starving, and dead on his feet from exhaustion. She closed her eyes, running her fingers through her tangled tresses as she waited for him to decide.

"Fine, we'll go with you. We're grateful for the help, and I hope one day we can return the favor," Bellamy said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Clarke nodded in agreement before bending to gather her things, Bellamy following suit.

"I'm Markus Kane, and this is my team," the man with the shotgun said, "We have a compound not far from here, and we're always on the lookout for new talent. We've got running water, hot food, and a safe place to rest."

Clarke couldn't help but sigh, that was everything she desperately needed at the moment. She couldn't help the excitement that quickened her movements as she slung her backpack on her shoulders and followed Bellamy and the others out of the cabin.

"Don't worry, Princess, I'll keep you safe," Bellamy whispered in her ear as they left.

She elbowed him in the ribs, but couldn't keep the smile from her lips. Death was all around her as they picked their way through the maze of rotting corpses, but she had lived to fight another day. She wasn't alone anymore, and as she looked at the handsome man beside her she couldn't help but think that maybe things were looking up.

 **-Lin**


	9. Chapter 9

**100 One Shots #9**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 nor do I own anything on CW.**

 **A/N: Thank you everyone who reviewed and followed! I really appreciate it! you guys keep me going on making my one shots! I hope you like this new chapter!**

 **Runaway With Me**

Bellamy raised his axe, following through with a forceful swing that jarred his shoulders as the blade sank into one of the thick branches of a felled tree. He'd been working since early morning earning his living as a woodcutter. The money wasn't much, but when added to Octavia's meager salary as a seamstress it was enough to get them by.

He wriggled the handle, trying to pry the axe from the tree, when his employer approached.

"The tree will still be here when we get back. Let's break for the noon meal," the man said with a chuckle as he clapped him on the shoulder.

Bellamy nodded, giving one final jerk to free his axe before leaning it against the side of the tree and then sat down to eat.

Clarke had been walking in the woods for some time, enjoying the quiet and the escape it gave her from her mother. Abby wanted her to spend time with her new fiancé, but she really didn't see the need. It wasn't that Mr. Collins was a bad man; she just didn't want to sign away her freedom. She wanted to travel, see the world and experience all of its wonders.

It had always been her dream to venture to the city. She wanted to see the cobbled streets, tall stone buildings, and large open markets. She wanted to see beyond the mountains that loomed in the distance, feel the ocean lapping against her bare feet.

Clarke sighed, running a hand through her tangled blonde curls. She knew that most young women would be overjoyed at the prospect of marriage, but to her it only felt as though she was being sold to the highest bidder- the son of a wealthy ironworker. She couldn't help but be angry with her mother for pushing for this arrangement, an arrangement that had seemingly ruined her life.

She soon found herself walking unbidden to her father's shop. It was mid-day, and she knew that he would have stopped to eat some of her mother's freshly baked bread and goat cheese.

Clarke quickened her pace; coming upon the wooded area where her father's small shop sat huddled among the trees. She crept forward, remaining behind one of the giant pines, peeking out to see her father sitting on a stump as he enjoyed his noon meal.

Not far from him was the man she'd found herself captivated by since the first moment she'd seen him when he had first moved to her tiny village several months ago. He was a mystery to her, and always looked to be deep in thought- almost like he was brooding over something he couldn't seem to let go. She frowned as she stepped away from the tree, knowing she should turn and run.

"Get back to work," someone shouted behind her, "Break's over."

Clarke hurried away from the tree, not wanting to be caught so close to her father's shop. She didn't feel like explaining to her mother why she went beyond the walls… Again.

She was nearly out of sight from the workers when a deep voice sounded behind her.

"You shouldn't be here," Bellamy told the blonde beauty he'd seen peaking out from behind a tree. He wasn't sure why she'd been there, but he didn't object.

He'd seen her many a time as she strolled through the village, and many more as she snuck through the city gates. He admired her restlessness, but he could tell that it wasn't just a free spirit that caused it. He could see it in her startling blue eyes- the need to escape.

"I'm Clarke, by the way," the blonde says, extending her hand with a nervous smile," And you're right, I shouldn't be here."

Bellamy watched as she tipped her head back, gazing at the bright blue sky slightly marred by wispy clouds. When her eyes return to his, she sighs, and he can read a sadness in their depths that startles perplexes him. Why would something so beautiful harbor such sorrow?

Then he remembered the rumor of the girl pledged to the son of the village's wealthy ironworker. He didn't like the thought of the vibrant creature before him being forced into a marriage she didn't want.

"The city is most beautiful in the summer time," Bellamy offered, unsure why he was telling her this.

Then he watched as a small wistful smile played on her lips as her blue gaze traveled to where the tree tops swayed in the breeze.

"If only I had time," Clarke replied sadly, thinking of the adventures she would miss out on. She would be tied to her husband, obligated to give him children and keep his house.

"I'm Bellamy."

The deep voice successfully pulled Clarke from her dark musings, and she realized all she wanted to do was hide away from her troubles with the man before her- if only for a little while.

"Tell me more about the city, Bellamy," Clarke said, taking him by surprise.

Bellamy recovers quickly, nodding as he began to tell her about everything he could about the city. He told her about the buildings, houses, shops full of trinkets and dresses, the people who cluttered the cobble stone streets, and the theatrical performances they loved to watch.

They talked for hours, Bellamy working and Clarke listening in rapt attention. He would cut and split the logs while she stacked it in a neat pile. Her dress was soon filthy, but her problems felt far away.

After Bellamy's work was finished they walked back to the village. He was telling her a story about his sister, Octavia, when she was young making Clarke laugh. She hadn't laughed in such a long time, and he had to admit that he enjoyed the sound- enjoyed everything about her.

The odd pair soon began to spend every day together, even when Bellamy wasn't working. They often went outside the walls, talking as they walked through the shaded forest. They shared their dreams and wishes, their deepest fears and greatest desires.

It only took one cycle of the moon for Clarke to realize that she was falling for this man. The more time she spent with him, the more attached she became until any thought of the ironworker's son brought a deep ache to her chest.

The day of her wedding was drawing nearer, and they'd decided to spend one last day together before she was swept up in the planning of her wedding. They ventured into the woods like they'd done so many times before, but today silence hung between them as they were both consumed with their thoughts.

They hadn't talked about their feelings, always leaving them just out of reach. They had been putting it off, trying to ignore the inevitable heartbreak they both knew was coming. Bellamy couldn't do it anymore, he needed to bring it up because he was in love with Clarke and he couldn't sit by and watch as she married someone else.

"You will be married in less than a fortnight," he said, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his belt.

Clarke's lips thinned, she didn't want to talk about it. All she wanted was to walk in silence with Bellamy at her side, her hand occasionally brushing his, but she knew they had to discuss the future.

"I guess you're right," she mumbled, tearing a leaf from a low hanging branch. "My mother gets what she's always wanted," she tore the leaf in half before letting the pieces drift to the forest floor, "Money."

"And Finn gets what he always wanted… You," he frowned, his gaze never leaving the golden beauty before him.

"So, what do we do now," Clarke breathed, running her hand over the rough tree bark as she walked by, slowing to a stop and looking up at Bellamy.

"Do you want to marry him," Bellamy asked, his tone hesitant- almost as though he's afraid of the answer.

Clarke shakes her head, a soft smile curving her lips, "You know I don't."

Bellamy stared at her a moment, and then his lips twitch with a smirk as he took a step back, "Prove it."

Clarke tilted her head at his challenge, "How?"

"Run away with me," he said, hope evident in his dark eyes.

Clarke ponders this for a moment, "Where would we go," she asked in amusement.

"Anywhere you want," Bellamy answered, taking a step closer to her, "The Ocean," another step closer and he began to circle her. "The city," he whispers against her neck.

Clarke gulped, gazing up at the tall trees. Bellamy stepped away with a knowing smirk.

"The mountains," he continued, watching as her smile faltered and of course he noticed, "Afraid?"

"No," Clarke said without hesitation- she wasn't afraid, she was excited!

"No," Bellamy asked, playfully grabbing Clarke's waist.

She lets out a surprised giggle, trying to wriggle free and ends up making them both fall to the forest floor. She looked up at Bellamy, his hot breath ghosting over her face, his dark eyes going nearly black.

"Really," he asked as he hovered above her, searching her deep blue eyes, "You'd leave your home? Your family? Your whole life?"

"I would do anything to be with you," Clarke answered honestly.

It was the first time she'd uttered such a thing out loud. They both knew that there were strong feelings between them for some time now, but they'd never said them out loud.

"I thought you'd say that," Bellamy smirked down at her, helping her to her feet and pulling her close.

"Oh did you," Clarke asked, playfully pushing his shoulder.

Bellamy laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist, "Let's do something about it."

His hand is warm as it cups her cheek. She sucked in a deep breath, looking over his shoulder at the horses they'd ridden picking at the green grass peeking out of the fallen leaves.

"It'd be a half day's ride before anyone knows we're gone," Clarke said with a smirk, her challenge filled gaze colliding with his.

Bellamy looked at the horses, and then back at Clarke. His breath caught as he leaned in, his lips so close to her own. He'd never been this close, always keeping his distance but now there was no need. She was his, and she had been for a while.

Clarke leans in because he's just so warm, heat radiating off him and enveloping her in his woodsy scent. She closed the distance between them, pressing her soft lips to his.

The kiss was slow at first, but quickly became heated. Their lips moved each other in a rhythmic dance that left Clarke breathless and wishing for more. Bellamy pulled away first, resting his forehead against hers.

"I'll race you," he smiled.

Clarke looked at him for a moment before running with a little shriek to the horses. She's nearly there when his hand on her arm slows her so he can run passed her. She laughs, pushing her legs to go faster. She reaches the horses first, and soon he's pulling her to him again.

"I'm in love with you, Clarke," Bellamy whispered as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I know," she smiled, "I'm in love with you too, Bellamy."

He pressed his lips to hers in a quick kiss before pulling away and helping her onto her horse. It's that moment that a realization hits her, something she can't ignore.

"What about your sister," she asked, looking at the man she was prepared to spend the rest of her life with.

"She has Lincoln," Bellamy said gruffly, staring at the trail ahead.

Clarke reached for his hand, twining their fingers together. He squeezes her hand, running his thumb across her knuckles saying, "She'll know where to follow once we're gone."

"Let's go then," Clarke smiled, reluctantly letting go of Bellamy's hand.

Bellamy jumped up on his horse, throwing her one more smile before leading the way to their new adventure. Happy, now that they could finally be together.

 **A/N: Please go and check out my co-written story Kingdom of Shadows!**

 **-Lin**


	10. Chapter 10

**100 One Shots #10**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The 100 nor do I own anything on CW.**

 **A/N: Thank you to my beta, and all the people that favorite and follow and reviewed!**

 **Lost and Found**

I drop to my knees, raising my face to the clear blue sky above and shut my eyes tight. My skin is red and blistering from the sun beating down mercilessly, glaring on the sand and making it hot to the touch. My lips are cracked and dry, just like the landscape that stretches out for miles in every direction.

All I want in this moment is to scream and wail at the injustice of my predicament, but my throat's too dry. I manage a croaking whimper, fisting my hands in the ratty fabric of my t-shirt wishing for a cool drink of water. What is left in my canteen is tepid and stale, and must be rationed because I don't know how much longer I'll have to walk in order to find more.

I'm tired and hot, my mind wandering to the coolness of my cell in prison- the prison I'd just escaped from four days ago. It had been awful, but it had been cool and right now I think I'd trade freedom for the feeling of cold cement beneath my feet.

I shake my head, knowing that these thoughts come from days in the scorching sun and the lack of food and water. I slide the straps of my backpack off my shoulders and unclip the canteen. There's not much left, probably only enough to get me over the next few sand dunes, but I'm too thirsty to care.

I frown down at the bottle in my hands, cursing my misfortune. When the bottle is empty, that will be it and I'll be as good as dead. However, at the moment I'm thirsty and I know that I need a little to keep me going.

I remove the cap, lifting the canteen to my chapped lips. The water is hot as it slides down my throat, churning my stomach, but offering much needed relief. I lick the moisture from my lips before the dry wind can steal it away, and replace the cap.

The wind starts to pick up, pulling at my hair, causing it to stick to the sweat and dirt covering my face. I hate the heat, the arid wind feeling like fire mixed with bits of sand as it stung my face and neck.

Sand pelted my cheeks as I grabbed my backpack and rose to my feet. I gaze out over the endless sea of golden brown, my feet moving of their own accord as I begin to walk further up the hill. Something tells me I should take cover, but I need to find out why the winds picked up.

As I crested the hill, I finally discovered why the wind had had begun to blow with such force… A sand storm was coming. I have little protection, and the swirling cyclone of heat and sandy grit is headed right for me.

I sit down, pulling my faded green backpack into my lap as I rifle through its contents. I quickly find a pair of goggles and a tightly rolled blanket I'd originally thought I'd have no use for. I slip on the goggles to protect my eyes, and sling my pack back onto my shoulders.

"Stupid desert, stupid sand storms," I mutter, covering myself with the blanket. It's going to be a while I think as I bury my face inside my jacket and close my eyes.

O-O-O

About an hour or so later the storm has passed, leaving me to dig myself out of my shallow, sandy grave. I shake myself off, roll up the blanket, and stuff it back in my backpack. I wet my lips with some of the water from my canteen, needing the moisture but not wanting to use any more than is absolutely necessary, and begin walking over the dune.

I didn't expect to find anyone, so I was surprised when an armored truck surrounded by people came into view. The figures milled about, filling the tank, doing repairs, or going through the cargo stowed in the back.

I dropped to the burning sand, landing flat on my stomach, and watched the people just below me. I squinted when I saw someone getting out of the driver's side, my heart beginning to race when I realized who this person was.

I shot to my feet, my head spinning from lack of water causing me to fall to my knees. My strength was waning, my parched throat preventing me from crying out. I took my time, slowly staggering to my feet before making my way down.

I slipped many times in the loose sand, but I knew I had to hurry when I saw the people beginning to ready themselves to leave. They were done refueling, and packing their truck when I called out- my voice raspy and strangled.

Only the person closest to the back of the truck looked up, reaching for the gun strapped to her side. I skidded to a stop, the sand at my feet giving way causing me to slide further down the hill. I fall to the ground, my hands held up in surrender as I croak out a plea for the dark haired woman to lower her weapon.

"Who are you," she shouts menacingly, stepping closer.

"Please, I just want to speak to-," I'm cut off when another shout echoes to my right.

"Clarke?"

"Octavia," I say, relief flooding my veins.

"Raven, put the gun down! I know her," Octavia says.

The girl I now know as Raven drops her hands to her sides as Octavia hurries over and helps me to my feet.

"Are you ok," she asks worriedly.

I shake my head, my strength ebbing away in the heat as I lean heavily against her. "Water," I practically beg with my scratchy voice.

Octavia quickly hands me an old metal canteen, the contents of which I chug down greedily. Water pours forth, wetting my lips and dribbling down my chin. It feels so good that I can't resist pouring some on my face to wash away the dust.

"Clarke what happened to you," Octavia asks as I try to pull myself together.

"The mission in Ton DC went south. I was captured and placed in lockup in the sky box," I reply, taking a deep breath as I stand and hand back the canteen.

Just as I was about to continue with my tale, shots rang out and the loud hum of an engine roared in the distance. It was coming from the direction of the prison, and we all knew who it was.

The Grounders, a crazed army led by an even crazier commander, riding in their heavily armored trucks and tanks. The only reason they ventured into the desert was to chase an escaped prisoner, and right now that was me.

They want me dead because I know too much. They can't risk the things I know about Ton DC getting back to the rebels in the wasteland villages. So they've come to eliminate the threat.

Octavia's orders ring out loud and clear, telling the rebels to man the guns and return to the safety of the truck. She tugs on my arm, and I look at her with fear shining bright in my eyes. I know what could happen, and I can't let it. I want to resist, tell her to take her people and leave, but I find myself following her instead.

"I need to keep you alive," she says seriously, "Come on."

I allow her to drag me to the truck, pushing me inside. I settle next to a dark haired girl with pale skin. She looks much too innocent to be mixed up in this, too fragile to withstand the things I know she must.

"I'm Maya," she says, extending her hand with a smile.

"Clarke," I reply.

"Are you a good shot," Maya asks causing my thoughts to drift to the many hours of training I received from the one person who'd always been patient with me, even when he snapped and growled at everyone else.

"Decent," I reply, hopping into the back as Octavia and the others jumped in and we took off.

"What a perfect day," a lanky boy with goggles exclaims with a smile, pointing is gun out the window and shooting at the vehicles that follow us.

Bullets whiz by as the Grounders return fire, yelling fiercely as the soldiers race to catch up with us. Octavia's faster though, for which I'm eternally grateful. I get off a few dozen shots, finally hitting the driver of the lead truck- watching as the tank behind it runs it over and crushes it into the sand.

"Shoot the tires," Raven yells, opening the hatch, "Hit those and they'll be forced to stop!"

Maya and I continue to fire our guns, aiming for the tires and the driver's side window. Unfortunately the soft sand makes driving difficult, Octavia cursing loudly as the tires skid and sink. Loud pings ring throughout the truck as bullets hit the metal exterior.

Finally Raven shoots the right front tire of the leading truck, causing it to veer off before flipping end over end.

"I'm awesome," she cries triumphantly, ducking back into the truck with a smile, "Now let's get back to camp!"

A few hours of silence ensues along with the endless journey across the desert before we finally arrive at the grungy camp.

"Jasper, help me with Clarke," Octavia orders, gripping one of my arms to stabilize me.

"No, I'm fine," I insist, shoving her hands away before slowly climbing out of the truck.

I lean back against the cooling metal, waiting for the rest to disembark. I turn when I hear my name being called, straightening at the sound of the voice that was so familiar it felt like home. I smiled as he ran towards me, his dark curls brushing the collar of his shirt.

"Clarke," he yells when he finally sees me, his smile making my heart flutter.

"Bellamy," I shout, my voice scratchy and throat sore.

I rush forward, crashing into him. His arms wrap tightly around me, and for the first time in months I relax. He's still the same, all hard muscle and warmth. He smells of leather and gunpowder, his t-shirt soft against my cheek.

"You're home," he whispers against my ear, holding me tighter.

His arms are confining, but not in the way my cell was. Bellamy has always offered freedom, comfort, and security. He's home, and it felt so good to be back in his arms after fearing I would die without ever seeing him again.

"Yeah, I'm home," I whisper back, yielding my lips to his kiss.

 **-Lin**


End file.
